


Imperfect, Perfectly

by ambersagen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Autistic Castiel, Dean Has Panic Attacks, Feel-good, Fluff, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, RPBB2016, Recovering Addict Sam Winchester, SPN Rare Pair Big Bang 2016, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Shmoop, ablest slurs, bottom!Dean, depressed!Dean, farm life, top!Cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6849424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain has been alone for a long, long time, living out the years since his wife died in self imposed exile.<br/>Dean has never been alone. He has Sam and Cas, and probably always will.  But even with his family to care for he has never felt more alone.<br/>While their lives are far from simple, that doesn’t mean that their coming together is complicated. Sometimes finding someone is as natural as bees finding flowers, and it’s the little things in romance that make life as sweet as honey.<br/>An old fashioned courtship might be just what Cain and Dean need to find healing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is my super fluffy indulgence fic. I hope you guys enjoy it.  
> Thank you so much to my beta, bobblawblog.tumblr.com. You rock my socks!

 

There was a man in his garden.

Cain felt a scowl forming like a stormcloud over his brow. He had only stepped out for a moment to grab another basket for the apples he had been picking. The trees were practically sagging with fresh fruit this time of year and he had been a bit late to get them harvested due to a pest infestation in his bee hives. But the weather had been crisp and clear all week and he had finally gotten the morning free to get his harvest in. Three baskets full and at least two more to go, and he had been sure to shut the gate behind him, as always. Yet there was the man, standing closer to the hives than any of Cain’s normal neighbors would have felt comfortable with. He was wearing a very strange coat, both shabby and yet too dressed up at the same time, hand outstretched before him as if cupping something in his palm. Cain walked a little faster when he saw something small land on the exposed skin. The last thing he needed was some idiot wandering into his garden and getting himself stung. His neighbors already complained about the hives and their fear of the bees and the danger of injuries they presented, despite the land being properly zoned for the hives and farming a common practice in the area.

The stranger didn’t look up from where he was leaning over Cain’s begonias. “Did you know,” he said, back facing Cain as he approached, his voice a surprisingly rough, deep pitch for someone his size, “That the average beehive has over 30,000 worker bees, but only one queen?”

He turned, not to look at Cain’s face, but rather somewhere in the vicinity of Cain’s hip. “Why are you keeping them so close to a residential area? They would do better in a large field away from humans.”

Cain glowered at him, trying to decide whether or not he should be insulted. He hadn’t spoken to anyone at all that morning, or that week in truth, and he found himself put out by having someone intrude on his peace to start arguments with him.

He settled for being mildly disgruntled. As annoying as having an intruder in his yard was, he was intrigued to see what the boy, and upon closer inspection he really was barely a man, would do next, since he had apparently broken in because he liked bees.

Getting complaints wasn't an unusual occurrence when it came to the bees. Having someone scold him because they were worried about the safety of the bees was new.

“I am aware, since they are _my_ hive and I have been taking care of them for years,” he answered, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his voice as he cleared his throat. “The field where this particular hive originally lived had a brush fire a few months back. I moved the hive here because my garden is well within the worker’s range.”

The boy perked up. “I see. You must not want them to get lost, right?”

“Cas!”

They both turned to see another young man sprinting up the path towards them. “What the heck, Cas? You said you were going to wait at the car.” The new young man came to a stop in front of them and Cain found himself eyeing the slight flush that was glowing in his skin. He was shockingly beautiful, and Cain couldn’t help but think that the term sunkissed had never applied to anyone as well as it did to this new young man.

Collet would have laughed herself silly to hear his thoughts waxing so poetic.

“Sorry sir,” the new young man was saying, eyeing him warily. “I don’t think he meant to trespass or anything. Right Cas?”

“Dean,” Cas, as he was apparently called, said to his friend with an exasperated frown. “There was a gate. Of course this isn’t public property. But I wanted to see the bees.”

Cain watched in amusement as ‘Dean’ made an aborted little flapping motion at his friend, eyes wide as he tried to shush him.

“It sounds like your friend knew exactly what he was doing when he came into my garden, and I doubt he regrets his actions, since all he’s done since getting in here is insult my competency with my own hives.”

Dean squared his shoulders, obviously preparing for trouble. “I don’t think Cas meant any offence,” he said with a fake smile, obviously lying through his teeth. “He just speaks his mind.”

Cain gave Dean a look, unimpressed. He turned, looking at Cas as the dark haired young man continued to ignore him by staring at Dean instead. “You are free to speak to me however you choose. However, you must understand that the way you speak to people will tend to get you a specific type of reaction. If you choose to address me rudely you will receive a rude response.”

Cas’ gaze flicked over to him, holding his eyes for a moment before returning to stare at Dean as he considered this. “I understand,” he said finally. “I don’t think I want you to be rude to me. I'm sorry I spoke so dismissively of your skills without attempting to first understand them.”

Cain nodded, and smiled. It was funny sometimes, to see how nervous people could get at just a smile, but these two did little more than blink warily. “I accept your apology. I think we might get along just fine if you would like to return, invited this time, to see the bees.”

The look of awe that Cas was giving him made Cain want to go back into his home and never leave. What had possessed him? He never invited anyone to come over, much less to intrude on his precious time with his bees and daily chores. But there was something in the way Dean was looking at him now, the grudging respect and wariness in his eyes, that made Cain curious again, curious to see what the pair would do.

“Uhm, great,” Dean said, looking around the garden in confusion, as if there might be someone else Cain was inviting over other than the two half-grown men who had broken into his private property. “Hey, come on Cas. We gotta get going,” he glanced at Cain again before looking away quickly. “I guess we’ll see you around. Sorry again about uh, the trespassing thing.” he took Cas’ hand, pulling the young man reluctantly away from the flowers.

Cain watched the pair walk away along the pebbled path and felt another smile pulling at his mouth. Shaking his head he turned back to work. He had things to do today, and he couldn’t let himself be distracted too much by the novelty of interacting with such odd young men.

“Dude,” Dean said, as he slowed his hasty retreat from the fragrant gardens and the dragon of a man who guarded them. “Why do I feel like we're lucky not to have ended up as mulch for his flowers?” He tried to will down the funny feeling in his stomach that had rose when the man had met Dean’s bullshit with nothing but the power of his firm, strong gaze. He looked like a mix between someone’s doting grandfather and a medieval king, but he wasn’t even gray in his frankly awe inspiring mane of hair yet, he couldn’t be as old as his self confidence implied. His face had been stern, with just a few wrinkles around those almost clear gray eyes…

He cleared his throat. “So, are you going to see him again?” He asked, going for casual as he moved around the Impala to the driver’s side.

“Hmmm?” Cas said, still looking back at the farm. “Oh, of course. You know how I feel about bees, Dean. Do you think he would object if I came by to see them tomorrow?”

“Probably. You don’t want to seem like an over excited freshmen trolling for a second date,” _keep it smooth, Dean._ “Tell you what. You promise to tell me from now on when you get the urge to do a little breaking and entering and I’ll give you a ride to see your bees. Deal?”

“Deal,” Cas replied, face solemn as a priest as they shook on it.


	2. A Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for Panic Attacks and Ablest language this chapter

The two young men didn’t come over every day, for which Cain was grateful. Since the passing of his late wife he had lived a mostly solitary existence, and while he had been a comfortable host while Colette was alive, her death had embittered him towards his neighbors. In his time of loss people confused offering sympathy with gossip hunting. Cain had tired of all the talk and was glad to retreat into privacy.

When the bee loving one, Castiel, as Cain later learned was his full name, did come over he was as grumpy as Cain, or happy to talk about the bees with only minimal input from the older man. Cain got the feeling that he was lonely, from the way he talked about his life outside of lurking around Cain’s farm.

He often talked of Dean, talking as he crouched on his knees in the dirt of the flowerbeds while Cain pretended to be indifferent and focused on their weeding. Dean, it seemed, worked long hours at several jobs to support their family. There was another brother as well, a sickly one from what Cas mentioned. It seemed that with one brother recovering at home, and Cas only managing temporary jobs around town, that there was little the eldest Winchester could do but work. Even so, Dean managed to pick Cas up at least once a week on his various trips to Cain’s farm.

Cas had taken to showing up two or three times a week to pick Cain’s brain about bee keeping or to set himself up as Cain’s personal gardener, much to the older man’s amusement.

Unfortunately, the Winchesters aren’t the only company Cain has to endure. While he may have done his best to become as grumpy and quiet over the years as possible, there was still the occasional neighbor who didn’t seem to mind that any conversation with him was a little one sided. They weren’t all bad. He got along just fine with the local sheriff and her boy, but that was different from his relationship with the neighbors who would rather talk at him than with him.

Case in point was old Mrs Rosalind, who insisted on dropping by every Sunday to talk up the local church, tut disapprovingly about Cain working on the sabbath, and rant about how it was such a shame what the world has come to. Cain usually paid her no mind, even occasionally going so far as to find amusement in contrarily doing everything she disliked just to see her reaction. She was a simple, petty old woman and he was secure enough in himself not to feel any of the bite she imagined her words delivered. She came from a long line of evangelical fire and brimstone christians but Cain knew that humans could be far crueler than any hell her close-minded congregation could dream up to scare their children into obedience. So he thought little of it when she rolled in one Sunday morning in her best church dress it was just the same old thing with her. But he hadn’t counted on his new friends.

“Excuse me, young man!” Cain heard her familiar voice ring out from somewhere by the front yard. “Those are Mr. Adam’s flowers. You had best not mess with them! He takes very unkindly to trespassers, I can assure you.”

Cain sighed. The woman only cared about his privacy when it gave her a chance to snoop, and _she_ had never respected him, even in the least little thing such as acknowledging the fact that when he had married, he had taken his wife’s surname.

“Excuse me!”

With an internal eye roll, Cain headed around the house. When he reached the front he saw Castiel staring blankly across at Mrs. Rosalind as she struggled with the broken latch on the gate.

“Oh, Mr. Adams,” she said, flushing as she stopped pushing at the gate. “I was just telling this young man that he is trespassing on private property, but he just ignored me.”

“As it happens, Castiel is not trespassing,” Cain said, with a bland look at the gate Mrs. Rosalind was trying to force. “Mrs. Rosalind, meet my new under-gardener and apprentice beekeeper,” Cain said, enjoying the look of consternation she gave him before remembering herself.

“Well,” she responded with a flutter. “You can never be too careful,” she said, with a sideways glance at him. “And why didn’t he just say so? Boys these days have no manners, Cain. I hope you will be teaching him better than his parents did.”

Cain was saved having to answer by the crunch of gravel and rumbling engine. Apparently today was a Dean day. Now Cain really did sigh. He would rather have Dean drop by when there were no annoying distractions.

The engine shut off and they could hear themselves think again. Cais began loading his tools into his basket as Cain and Mrs. Rosalind watched Dean exit his monstrous vehicle.

“Uhm, hey,” Dean said, stopping awkwardly when he noticed he had an audience.

“Goodness. How many apprentices do you have?”

Cain looked to the heavens for strength. “Mrs. Rosalind, this is Dean, Castiel’s brother.”

“Friend actually, although we’re closer family than most blood brothers I know,” Dean said, flashing his crowd pleasing smile. Cain felt something flip flop in his stomach at the sight of Dean’s perfectly straight teeth and his wicked smile. Mrs. Rosalind obviously fell for it, and looking between Dean and Cas, who was still ignoring them in favor of cleaning up his work area she smiled, coming to some conclusion about the pair of them in her own mind.

“Oh, I see. You don’t work for Mr. Adams then, but you came all the way here to pick up your friend,” she gushed, and Dean looked about as uncomfortable as Cain felt, only with a healthy dose of confusion.

“Uhh, it’s not a big deal?” Dean offered, glancing over to Cas and then to Cain as if they knew what the woman was talking about.

She plowed on, oblivious to the confusion that whatever story she was building in her mind for her friends was causing in reality. “What a good boy you are,” she said, patting Dean’s arm tenderly. “It must be difficult at your age to be looking after someone like your friend. I have a cousin who’s not quite all there too, and I know how trying it can be sometime for those around them.”

Dean stiffened, the muscles in his arm jumping as he pulled out of her reach with a bit more force than necessary. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. Cas is completely ‘there’, right buddy?”

Cas looked up. Cain watched quietly as Cas’ eyes moved from Dean’s face, to where his arm was pulled up, still somewhat defensively, before his gaze rested finally on Mrs. Rosalind. “Of course I’m right here. I’m always here, although I think she might be referring to my ability to focus and engage socially on a level that she deems acceptable, in which case I assure you that I am ‘all there’ whether she can tell or not. When it’s really important I make sure people know that,” he stood up, looking down at the dirt now pressed into the knees of his previously impeccable dress pants. He looked at Mrs. Rosalind again. “You are not at all important to me, in case that wasn’t clear.”

Dean snorted as Mrs. Rosalind gasped. “Well I never-”

“Lady,we know exactly what you’re thinking and I gotta say, your kind of judgmental superiority complex is way more ‘difficult to deal with’ than Cas could ever be.”

She drew herself up, straightening her blouse threateningly. “I see the lack of manners is a family trait,” she said, voice scathing. “I hope you don’t encourage this kind of behavior in your workers in the future, because I may have to recommend that my friends go elsewhere to more polite farmers.”

“Have a good day Mrs. Rosalind,” was all Cain said, and she gave another huff before storming off. Cain just watched her go, internally amused, before turning to look at his new “apprentice beekeeper” and Dean.

“Got something to say?” Dean said, voice rough and eyes wary.

“Hmm,” Cain watched her go, “That was a bit dramatic. I would have just told her to fuck off.”

Cas grinned, rocking his shoulders from side to side like a happy dance. “Dean used to tell people to fuck off, but Mary said it wasn’t nice and that we shouldn’t put more negativity back into the world than is necessary.”

“Mary?” Cain asked as Cas kept snickering at Mrs. Rosalind’s retreat.

“She was Sam and Dean’s mother, oh,” Cas stuttered to a stop. “I mean-”

Dean had gone white as a sheet as Cas had spoken, a strangled sound sneaking out when Cas said the name.

“Dean please,” Cas said, voice frightened and too loud. At the sound Dean just squeezed his eyes closed tighter and clutched so hard at the sides of his face that Cain feared he would draw blood.

“Castiel,” Cain said firmly, unsure of what was happening. Dean appeared to be having a fit or something. “Castiel, I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Cas said, slightly rocking back and forth as he fluttered nervously around Dean.

“You didn’t mean to what? Was it something you said?”

“Dean doesn’t like it when we talk about Mary,” Cas replied.

Dean gave a small, choked off huff at the name and Cas covered his mouth guiltily.

“Come on,” Cain said, gesturing towards the house. “We should all get inside. Dean, I’m going to touch you now, just follow me.”

He put his hand carefully on the boy’s shoulder, arm wrapping around as he lead them inside. Dean moved as pliantly as any number of farm hands in shock from a bad accident. He could feel minute trembling going through Dean as he guided him to the sitting room.

“This way,” Cain said. “Set him on the couch.”

Cain lead Dean by the elbow, arm hooked under his to support the boy as he staggered. Dean had a vacant expression, watching with little interest breathed harsh and irregular breaths.

Cain grabbed a glass from the kitchen, thinking some ice water couldn’t hurt, but when he got back Dean had started shaking again and Cain found himself at a loss as to what needed to be done next.

“Does he often have episodes like this?” he asked Cas. Cain had never seen anything quite like this before, although it was similar to an incident when he was younger and a friend had gotten his hand caught in a thresher. Dean had that same detached look about him while his body was obviously responding to some sort of stress. The glazed look in his eyes reminded him of the years after Colette’s death, when waking up alone in the dark would spark a similar response of tether-less mental pain.

“We need to call Sam,” Cas said, “Sam can help,” he paused, “I can’t call him. You should do it.”

“I don’t even know him,” Cain said with a frown. All he even knew of Dean’s brother was the gossip propagated by the likes of Mrs. Rosalind, which held that he was some sort of criminal out on parole, and Cas’ own few mentions of his sickly disposition.. “Why can’t you call him?”

“I hate phones. They’re unnatural and I refuse,” he shoved the phone into Cain’s hands while staring at him intently.

“Give me his number,” Cain said, firmly. “Are you sure Dean doesn’t need medical care?”

“I’m fine,” Dean rasped, startling them both. He stilled looked dazed, like he wasn’t quite tuned into his body, but his words were clear enough. “I’m not going to the hospital,” he shuddered, the words starting up another round of shaking as he grasped his arms like he was trying to hold himself down.

Wordlessly, Cas handed over his cell, number already dialed.

“Cas?” a young, male voice answered after only two rings.

‘No, this is Cain. Castiel asked that I call you. I have Dean and Castiel with me, but Dean is having some sort of stress induced mental issue and I need to know what you would like me to do. He’s already told me he does not want to go to the hospital.”

There was an explosive sigh on the other end of the line. “Yeah, as long as he’s still talking and breathing we usually just do what we can for him, keep him hydrated and whatever you can do to calm him. It’s a panic attack so he mostly needs to stop thinking about whatever triggered it,” there was the sound of shuffling on the other end of the line. “You’re out at the farm up the road, right? The cabin with the white fence? I will be over in, what, fifteen minutes tops. Dean has the Impala so I have to walk, but it’s probably closer to ten minutes anyway.”

Cain blinked, surprised. So close? That meant there wasn’t any reason for Dean to pick up his brother all the time. No, it was friend wasn’t it? He had said Castiel was as close as a brother.

Cain shook himself. Now wasn’t the time to think about things like that.

“I’ll do my best to make him comfortable until you arrive.”

“Thank you,” Sam sounded genuinely relieved. “I’m leaving now.”

Goodbyes said, Cain turned back to Dean and Cas.

Dean seemed a little calmer, eyes closed as he tried to follow Cas’ murmured instructions to breath with him.

“Should I stay close or give you some space?” Cain asked Dean, hoping he was present enough to answer.

“In the room is fine,” Dean said, voice rough and eyes still closed. “If you aren’t bothered by a grown man having a melt down in your living room. I’m not going to break.”

“I may not know much about medicine, but I’m pretty sure panic attacks are a medical condition,”Cain scolded. “I wouldn’t shame you over that any more than I would shame someone with the flu."

“If you have some music you could play, it helps to ground him,” Cas offered. “Quiet music.”

Cain nodded. He hadn’t touched his record player in some time, but he had some Ella Fitzgerald that he used to put on from time to time. He turned the volume down until Dean’s shoulders had relaxed and the music was a faint croon in the background.

Mindful of Sam and Cas’ request for a quiet space, Cain sat down across from them to wait. It was a difficult thing, to watch the young man be so distraught and yet knowing the best thing he could do was stay out of the way. Inactivity was not something Cain was used to. He watched as Cas rubbed soothing circles into Dean’s back as they waited for Sam to arrive.

Sure enough, it was about ten minutes later when there was a tentative knock on the door. Cas and Dean both started at the sound, focus lost. When Cain opened the door he was met by a beanpole of a boy, taller than him by a head, with hair that was in danger of blocking his vision.

“Hey, you must be Cain,” the boy said, giving him a smile as he extended his hand. “I’m Sam Winchester.”

“Come in please,” Cain said, shaking the offered hand and moving aside. He couldn’t remember the last time he had so many guests in his home. “Your brother is in the next room.”

Sam followed him into the house, his whole body drooping in concern when he saw his brother sitting hunched on the couch. “Hey guys,” Sam said, hovering awkwardly. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here before I embarrass myself anymore.”

“Dean,” Sam was giving him the saddest look Cain had ever seen on a grown man. “Don’t put yourself down like that. Panic attacks aren’t anything to be ashamed of.”

Cain heard Dean mutter something that sounded like “oh my god” as Cas helped him up.

“Thanks again for looking out for them,” Sam said as his brother walked out. “I figured we would meet sooner or later with the way Dean and Cas talk about you. I wish it could have been in better circumstances.”

“Will he be alright?” Cain asked as Dean folded himself into the back seat of his monster car.

“Yeah, good thing too. I guess having a former addict for a brother and an alcoholic for a father puts you off hospitals for life,” Sam said, with a grimace. “We’ve all been doing better lately, so I bet once we get him home he’ll be fine.”

Cain got the feeling that he was being tested, the way Sam held his gaze while dropping this information, so he kept his voice bland. “Keep an eye on him. If something like his mother being mentioned sets him off so hard then I think he isn’t quite as healed as he may seem.”

Sam looked sad. “That’s a very old wound, I doubt he’ll ever really be healed from that. But thanks. I’ll watch out for him.”

They nodded to each other and Cain watched the group leave with a surprising, if slight, sense of loss.


	3. Calling

Dean doesn’t pick Cas up again that week. Cain doesn’t ask why, although he does inquire after his well being. Cas is reserved.

“He is tired, but he still goes to work,” was his reply when Cain asks if Dean has recovered from his...upset. “Dean always works very hard.”

The set of Cas’ brow probably matches Cain’s own as he relates this. From what Cain has gathered Dean works far too much, putting in long mornings at an auto shop in town, and longer nights as a waiter at an all-night dinner. “He also works odd hours as night maintenance at the local nursing home,” Cas says gloomily, when Cain asks when Dean finds time to sleep or eat.

By the end of the week Cain has come to a decision. He takes out one of Colette's baskets, handwoven sometime during those happy years of their marriage. This he fills with several jars, some of honey and some of jam made from the strawberries in his personal garden, and a loaf of bread baked that morning. He adds in some apples and wraps them all carefully in a checkered cloth. The day is still young when he sets out, basket on his arm and determination in his step.

He knew that the Winchesters lived roughly ten minutes or so away, and as there weren’t that many homes down the road that would fit them he finds the home easily enough, mostly since Dean’s large car was very difficult to miss.

The home was small, older and no doubt not in the best of condition. As he walked up the lawn he could see where the paint was pealing, but there were freshly planted bushes in a small garden bed under the under the window, and there was a good, strong rocker on the porch. He knocked firmly, twice in rapid succession. A shuffling sound and muffled voices announced that the family were home.

The door was opened, surprisingly enough, by Dean.

“Good morning,” Cain said, cheerfully ignoring the reflexive way that Dean half closed the door at the sight of him. “I was hopping I could catch you before work,” he held out the basket. “I thought you boys might want some breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Sam poked his head out around Dean, who hadn’t said anything yet. Sam pushed the door open all the way, nudging Dean, who seemed to snap out of his daze. He stepped back, elbowing Sam out of the way, but Sam didn’t seem to mind, moving out of the way easily enough.

“Come on in,” Dean said, meeting Cain’s eyes before dropping his gaze to the ground.

Cain followed the pair inside, respectfully toeing off his shoes in the entryway where he saw three pairs of boots lined up. The home was small, just a one floor space with a combined living room and kitchen. Castiel was sitting at the table, blinking owlishly at him as he set the basket down on the counter.

“Look who’s joined us for breakfast,” Sam said, ruffling Cas’ hair before sitting down.

‘I hope I’m not intruding,” Cain said as he began to unpack the basket.

“Dude,” Dean said, eyes wide as Cain loaded his bounty. “I don’t know why you’d want to hang out with us but if you bring this sort of food all the time feel free to come by whenever.”

Cain looked at him carefully. He looked a little more tired than usual, but he was alert, eyes present in a way that they weren’t when his panic attack was happening.

“You going to actually sit and eat for once?” Sam asked, frowning slightly at his brother. “You have time this morning, right?”

Cas was staring at him too, reminding Cain of the old bloodhound that used to live down the road.

Dean sighed, and rolled his eyes as he grabbed some plates from the cupboard, handing them out. “Yeah, yeah. Scoot over.”

“Thank you, Cain,” Cas said, eagerly reaching for the preserves. “Breakfast is a meal that is made infinitely better by the presence of family.”

“Well, I don’t have any family and my neighbors are all terrible people, so I suppose I should take advantage of the fact that I can tolerate all of you,” he said, winking at Dean, who blushed and shoved his bread in his face.

“We find you quite tolerable too,” Cas informed him with a smile. “Which is quite convenient since Dean says you and I need to be socialized more.”

“I think my exact words were that ‘you two are grumpy fuckers so it’s doing society a favor to let you go at each other’.”

Cas rolled his eyes as Cain hid his smile behind his tea. Socializing with the Winchesters wasn’t sounding like such a bad deal after all.


	4. A Bouquet

 

Cain buys flowers for Dean on a crisp Sunday morning.

He would rather have picked some from his own garden, but he hadn’t had proper rose bushes in years, and he wanted red roses. The woman at the counter smiled at him knowingly. Roses are for lovers, or so the sentiment goes. Cain doubted she knew he was buying this particular bouquet for a special young man rather than a “lucky lady” as she remarked when she handed him his receipt. Twelve perfectly formed long stem roses in hand, Cain carefully made his way back to his truck. It was early still, and he had been invited over to the Winchesters for Sunday brunch, not that they would call it such.

The first time he had invited them into his home had been a timid affair. Dean had reminded Cain of the rabbits that had occupied a small corner of his garden for a time. He had been so quiet, warily observing his surroundings while Cas, who had been in the cabin before when the weather had called for lemonade and a break from the sun, chattered on about the bees and flowers.

Cain had brought them tea, earl gray served in well-loved blue china cups. He had noticed the way Dean’s face had lit up at the sight of the homemade biscuits and jam that Cain had brought out with the tea. Dean’s eyes had flicked briefly towards the kitchen, and there had been a moment of longing on the young man’s face that had prompted Cain to make an open invitation to breakfast whenever they desired.

Ever since the panic attack incident and following breakfast, Cain and the Winchesters had become weekly companions.

\---

It was only a few seconds after his first knock when the door was answered, as on that first morning, by the slightly embarrassed older Winchester.

“Dean,” he greeted, stepping into the house as Dean ushered him inside. “Good morning.”

Dean blinked at the flowers as Cain offered the bouquet to him. “These are for you. They should be put in water if you have a vase.”

“Uh,” Dean responded articulately as Sam ran into the kitchen to grab a vase. Cain smiled at the look on Dean’s face as the young man took the flowers, equal parts flattered and embarrassed if the way he kept opening and closing his mouth was anything to go by. Cain rather enjoyed the way Dean’s nose scrunched up and the blush that tinged his neck.

“Thanks,” Dean finally muttered, firmly avoiding Cain’s eyes by examining the roses.

“You brought Dean flowers,” Cas stated with a frown, shuffling into the kitchen to better view the offending bouquet. “Why did you bring Dean flowers?”

“Dude,” Dean objected, self-consciously fussing with the arrangement.

“What. You aren’t a woman. Why is he bringing you flowers?” Cas frowned at both of them. “I like flowers more than you do. He should have brought them to me. And they should be in a pot. Those will die soon.”

“I brought Dean flowers because I knew he would enjoy them,” Cain said, mildly. “They have a special meaning, as you well know since you told me all about the history of roses last month,” he smiled, watching the blush go full force on Dean’s face.

Cas frowned at being caught out and Cain rolled his eyes indulgently. “I am not looking to entice you the way I hope to with him, although if you are interested you could ask and I am sure we could get you some of my garden clippings.”

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, and Cain turned to find him scowling as Sam sat back at the table, smirking. Cas nodded, content with the outcome and apparently oblivious to the awkward situation he brought on his friend. “I see. I’m sure Dean is delighted with the flowers then,” he said slyly. “Since he’s thinking about you all the time as well.”

Not so oblivious then.

“Cas!” Dean yelped, outraged. Sam cackled.

“He likes to talk about how well tended your farm is and he complains about your truck a lot. That’s how we know he likes you.”

“Alright, new rule. No talking about me when I’m right fucking here. I don’t want anything to do with your gossip circle.”

“Yes Dean,” Sam and Cas chorused, causing Dean to throw a dish cloth at his brother’s head.


	5. Quiet

Dean is often quiet when he is with Cain. Around his brother, Dean was loud, always bantering, poking at the younger Winchester like a bear at a hive. Sam was a talker too. He liked to talk at people, and would ramble much worse than Castiel when he really got going on a topic. Dean was often the listening ear, providing just enough snark to assure his brother that he was engaged, but also able to shut down the conversation if the need arose.

Around Castiel Dean was often the advocate, speaking when Cas could not, or would not. He smoothed ruffled feathers and mediated social encounters, as protective of his friend as any mother hen.

When Cain had gone in the early days of their courtship to ask Sam for his blessing, Dean had been furious. Dean hadn’t seen it as a sign of respect towards his only living family, or as a symbol of Cain’s intent to seriously pursue him. As Dean had let Cain know, in no uncertain terms, the only ‘yes’ that mattered was the one that came from his own mouth, and he didn’t appreciate anyone speaking for him. There had been yelling of a different sort when Cain had asked if that meant his answer was yes after all. Apparently an embarrassed Dean was a loud Dean, a Dean who was more prone to taking lovetap swipes at the source of his embarrassment.

Now, under the heat of the height of summer, Cain watched Dean, pulling weeds as he surreptitiously took in the view. Dean was standing at the edge of the garden, face turned up to the sun, eyes closed as the very light breeze moved through his hair. They hadn’t said much more than ‘hello’ to each other that morning and yet the silence was as warm as the light Dean was sunning himself in.

Setting aside the last of the weeds Cain sat back on his heels, palms resting on his thighs. With his attention now undivided he noticed the dark circles under the young man’s eyes. From what he knew of his friend there was much for him to be tired over. Sixty hour work weeks and a family full of troubles. Dean might love his family fiercely and unconditionally, but there were days lately when he came to pick up Castiel, days where his hands shook when he took the offered glass of water or one of the snacks Cain found himself providing from time to time. It made Cain wonder if perhaps, Dean enjoyed being quiet around him as much as Cain enjoyed just being around him.

Dean looked up now to catch him staring and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“I think lunch is calling,” Cain said, dusting off his knees. “It feels like a lemonade kind of day to me.”

Cain was impressed sometimes with how much Dean could communicate with just a look. Dean sat back on his ankles, looking around the yard with a smile. _“Help me up?”_ he asked with the wiggle of an outstretched arm.

Cain pulled him up, placing a chaste kiss to his brow before gathering his tools up.

If Dean wouldn’t ask for help then Cain would just have to find ways to offer it. He had a feeling that the compromise was all Dean was asking for. It’s easy to do something for someone, but much more difficult to accept when their autonomy means you can’t do everything for them. For now they met halfway, and ate sandwiches in companionable silence while they relaxed together on his rocking porch swing.

 


	6. Storms

Sometimes Dean wondered how other people could stand it, getting out of bed every day, always going through the motions. Most days Dean struggled against a powerful apathy about life. He forced himself to get up when all he wanted was to lay in bed until the world stopped. He went to work because Cas and Sam depended on him. Sam still wasn’t ok, even after a year of rehab and being clean. The physical toll of his addiction had left him too skinny, with shakes and sleeping patterns that drained his energy. And Cas, well. Cas was too antisocial to work most jobs, and people were too cruel. Dean wouldn’t force him to go out and deal with all that bullshit. It was easier to pretend that he would always be here to do it for him. Even if most of the time forcing words out of his throat was like ripping out pieces of his soul.

Whatever.

He knew that was just melodramatic bull. Suck it up, Winchester. everyone hates getting up and going to work in the morning. Be a man and don’t cry about it for fuck’s sake.

But he did want to cry about it. Especially on days like this, where his whole body felt heavy and slow, like the air around him had turned to water and he couldn’t remember how to swim. He had staggered through his first job, feeling like he was walking on glass, like any little thing that went wrong was going to be the one thing he absolutely could not deal with. By the time he got to his second job he felt like he had sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Everything was fuzzy and even his own body didn’t feel quite real. Customers talking to him seemed sharp, loud in a way that Dean just couldn’t make sense of. Even their faces were too loud, their expressions yelling at him just as much as their words, and he found himself staring at the floor as they jabbered.

He couldn’t remember most of his work day passing. Whether his silent nods appeased anyone or whether they had screamed at him until he was fired and kicked out of the store in disgrace. He was almost sure it was the former, but some small part of him that could feel properly was terrified it was the latter.

By the time he had dragged himself home he didn’t even want to fall into bed. He didn’t want anything. He was numb all over, like his body was a zombie, too stupid to realize it’s spirit had left. Too stupid to die.

He wasn’t sure how long he stared at the door, ears buzzing with the same static that filled his brain. It was the soft murmur of voices from inside that made him reach out to open the door. He fumbled at the lock, feeling tears of frustration building at even this minor issue of fine motor skills. Breathing erratically he got the door open, not even trying to compose himself as he entered the apartment. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a voice that sounded a lot like his father, demanding he suck it up so Sam didn’t see him being such a child, his own inner voice reminding him that dinner still needed to be made, that Sam and Cas would want to talk about their day, that he was never around to give them attention anymore, that he needed to pull himself together and stop being such a shitty brother.

He was several steps inside before he realized that Cain was there, and that the kitchen smelled of something meaty and warm. He stumbled to a halt when Cain turned to him with one of those smug smiles of his, the ones that just screamed “totally in control” of the situation.

“We were beginning to wonder where you got to,” Cain said, walking over to kiss Dean carefully on his forehead. “Dinner will be ready in ten, I hope you like beef stew. I know it might have more vegetables in it than you are used to,” he raised his eyebrows teasingly, then frowned as Dean staggered over to the stove to stare numbly into the pot. “Dean?”

Dean closed his eyes, breathing in the steam. Some of the numbness of the day thawed away, leaving him a little more aware, and a little more raw. A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and Dean turned, pressing his face into Cain’s collar as he wrapped his arms around the man.

He could feel Cain startle, but he felt arms wrap around him in a return hug. He knew distantly that his brother was in the room, and likely watching the whole exchange, but he didn’t have the energy to care. All he could think about was that Cain was here, watching after his family, happy to see Dean whenever he got home, and how he didn’t have to cook dinner tonight on top of everything else.

Tears were escaping now, and Dean pressed his face into Cain’s soft, overwashed collar, sharply breathing in the smell of earth and firewood. Cain didn’t comment if he fell his shirt getting wet, but when Dean pressed closer to stop the trembling that had started earlier that day Cain paused, taking his pan off the heat and shutting off the burner. Turning he walked Dean back to the table without somehow letting him out of touching reach.

“Sit,” Cain ordered, eyes kind. Dean sat, but he couldn’t get his hands to let go of Cain’s waist. Cain didn’t seem to mind, simply easing in closer to let Dean wrap his arms around his waist. They remained like that for a few moments, Cain resting his chin on Dean’s head as Dean grounded himself in Cain’s presence. Eventually Sam came back in, drawn by the smell of dinner, and the pair broke apart with a squeeze.

Listening to Sam ramble on about his day as Cain returned to the stove to finish dinner, Dean found himself surprisedly settled. He still still felt raw, and he wasn’t sure he could force more than attentive hums out at the moment, but he didn’t feel like he was going to fly apart any moment. He felt like he could actually do this. He could sit down for dinner and listen to his family before bed.

\---

Being an early riser in a small house with only one bathroom had its advantages. While Sam was known to get up early his habits strayed more towards a cup of coffee and the daily paper, allowing Cas to take the first shower of the day undisturbed. Dean was a shower hog as much as Cas was. Mary used to joke that the pair of them must have been fishes in their previous lives. Cas rather liked the idea that he and Dean would have found each other whatever their form. With Dean working so much Cas never had to fight for hot water. Dean would rather sleep all the hours he could in the morning, forgoing a shower in favor of sleep. As long as no one tried to communicate with him before his first cup of coffee Cas enjoyed his mornings.

He wasn’t chipper by any means when he emerged from the shower pleasantly wrinkled and steamy, but he was in a good enough mood to mumble hello to Cain, who had also just emerged for the morning. The older man had just gently closed the door to Dean’s room when Cas passed him. It wasn’t so unusual these days for Cain to spend the night, or for Dean to stay over at his cabin. Their relationship had been steadily progressing over the last few months, and Cas was pleased to see Dean smiling more since the old farmer had become part of their little family.

Cain, seemingly unaware yet that Cas was observing him had paused, leaning forward to rest his head against the door with a small sigh. He twitched slightly at Cas’ mumbled good morning, pulling a smile onto his face.

“Good morning, Castiel. I believe Sam has breakfast cooking,” he pushed off carefully from the door, hand caressing it for a moment as if he could touch the sleeping man inside. “Dean asked me to tell you that he is going to have a quiet morning. He isn’t feeling very well.”

Cas blinked slowly, his mind taking a coffeeless moment to process this request. “Oh. I’ll ask Sam to set aside a plate for him then.”

Cain nodded, squeezing past Cas as he headed to the shower.

Cas knew he wasn’t what most people considered ‘normal’. There had been several screaming matches between his parents when his initial diagnosis of autism had been passed down. Naomi had been especially displeased, that is until she realized that having a ‘moron’ for a child had certain perks. As much as she ever pushed her children into the spotlight, she pushed Cas into being another one of her success stories.

She started a blog, told total strangers of the ‘struggles’ she faced having to ‘deal’ with her autistic child. She forced him to sit for idyllic photoshoots, which he hated with a passion. He hated everything about her blog actually, especially sitting still so that she could paint some sort of fantasy life for her viewers in which her family was actually full of love.

He hated that perfect strangers felt like they had a right to talk about his feelings, his ‘tantrums’, like they knew anything about him. Dean said Naomi liked to think she was brave for putting up with him. Dean said that was stupid because Cas was just Cas, and moms shouldn’t ‘put up’ with their kids, that they were supposed to love them, like Mary loved Dean and Sam. Dean said a lot of things like this, and let Cas play with his hot wheels. Cas had met Dean at church. Naomi made him go once or twice a week because it made her feel better about herself. Mary also made Dean go every week, but they went mostly on Thursdays to help at the soup kitchen that the church ran.

Dean loved Mary. Sometimes Cas felt that he loved Mary too, more than he loved Naomi. Dean didn’t seem surprised when Cas made this great confession to him when they were ten, hidden behind the back pews while their mothers gossiped with each other. Then again, Dean was rarely surprised by anything Cas did. Dean understood him, sometimes so well that Cas was frightened.

It was Dean who pushed him to get emancipated, Dean who told him he could be his own person, and adult who could make his own decisions. It was Dean who showed up on his doorstep at 2am, who told him that Sam was in the ER on an overdose. It was Dean who told him that morning that he was going to take Sam to rehab and then drive until they found some place that they could settle down and rebuild their family. Somewhere far from the shadow of Mary’s death, far from the reality of John’s abuse. It was Dean who asked Cas to come with them.

Cas went, of course. Dean and Sam had been his family for a decade, he didn’t want to imagine a world without them.

It hadn’t been easy. Sam had fought hard to get clean, but it had been a battle and a half. Cas found it difficult to adjust to their new home, especially with Dean working such long hours to support them. There had been a lot of guilt over that, seeing Dean push himself so hard. Dean deserved better things. Which was why Cas was watching this new thing between Dean and Cain very closely. He knew people didn’t always have the same ideas about life and love that he did, and he wasn’t about to let anyone hurt Dean. No matter how much he liked the man’s farm.

He hadn’t given Cain much thought at first. Their initial meeting had been more about what Cain did for a living than what he was like as a person.

It was a few days after he had first wandered into Cain’s garden that he realized something was going on. He had noticed of course that Dean had been at least a little attracted to the older man. It wasn’t that surprising as Cain fit Dean’s ‘type’, with his weather worn face and thick beard. Sam often teased Dean for being onto lumberjacks. But Cas had dismissed the obvious attraction on Dean’s part. Dean might be bisexual, but he never acted on any of his male crushes. But then in the space of a few days Dean had started to grow and subsequently shaved his own beard, and Sam had pulled Cas aside to ask him about the mysterious man with the crappy trunk that Dean kept complaining about. When Cain had come courting and Dean hadn’t turned him away, Sam and Cas had really started paying attention.

Dean had dated women in the past, nice girls who had sucked away his energy. Cas had been so worried that Cain would be the same, demanding time and energy from Dean that he couldn’t give. But the opposite had happened. Cain had been attentive, taking things slowly. Cas had played dumb, hoping to investigate further into the man’s personality. To his delight, Cain hadn’t fallen for his idiot act at all. Most people were all too willing to assume Cas was too stupid to talk to, but Cain never did, Cas got the feeling that the man was lonely, as unused to this whole situation as the Winchesters were.

With a smile Cas went downstairs to start breakfast.

“Sam,” he said brightly on seeing him hunched over toast at the kitchen table. “Cain said that Dean wants to have a quiet morning today.”

Sam’s head jerked up in surprise. “Cain said?” he asked, tone prodding.

“Yes. Cain told me,” Cas confirmed.

“He told you Dean _wants_ to have a quiet morning,” Sam was grinning now.

“He’s a keeper, isn’t he?” Cas asked. Dean _never_ told anyone when he was having bad days, and he never allowed anyone to coddle him unless he was catatonic. But he had allowed himself to seek comfort last night, and more importantly he had asked Cain to stay. The two of them sat smiling at each other, no words necessary.

Cain was indeed, a keeper.


	7. Chores

Sometimes Dean wondered if he was dreaming. It happened more and more these days, as everything seemed to be getting lighter, more hopeful. 

Cain. 

At first Dean had been almost intimidated by Cain, this old dude who appeared in their lives so suddenly and who had seemed to have such a strong hold over Cas.

He worried about Cas sometimes, even though he knew the little nerd could take care of himself. He didn’t like that people talked over him, that they always thought they had a right to say things about Cas like they knew him just because they had a distant relative or a friend of a friend who was like him. Dean hated the way they butted in, talking to Dean like he was so amazing for ‘dealing’ with Cas, talking like he couldn’t hear or have opinions on what they were saying. 

Sam liked Cain from the start, but that didn’t mean a whole lot. Sam liked everyone, and more importantly, Sam trusted everyone. 

Dean trusted no one who wasn’t family.

Except Cain.

Cain was turning out to be the exception to most of Dean’s rules. What had started off as an embarrassing crush on the older man had rapidly evolved into the most romantic, old-timey courtship that Dean could ever have imagined. In the beginning, Dean had worried that Cain was going to stick to hand holding or insist that they leave room for Jesus. At the very least he had been sure that when they first took that step into more intimate gestures, that he was going to have to take the lead through their first kisses because the man was so old fashioned and probably wouldn’t even use tongue.

Dean was wrong. So very wrong. 

He had failed, somehow, to take into account that Cain was married years ago, and when they finally took that first step Cain turned out to be such a tease that by the time the man decided they had been going out long enough to properly kiss Cain’s only thought seemed to be figuring out just how fast he could reduce Dean to a whimpering, whining mess with just his mouth.

So yeah, he may have lowered a few barriers when it came to the old man.

A happy fire greeted Dean as he pushed open the door to Cain’s cabin. He stomped hard a couple of times to shake the snow from his boots. Little flurries of snow snuck in around the door edge as he closed it on the storm. 

Winter had come fast this year. The warm, flowering summer blown away in an early October blizzard. Cain and Cas had spent days rushing about to get the vegetables covered and the bees settled in for the season. It had been a few hectic weeks in which Dean hadn’t even bothered coming home after work. He just headed straight to the farm to cook dinner, because if he didn’t keep everyone fed they would forget to eat. Even Sam had been roped into the winter preparations, setting up a Ford's assembly line of canning for the last of the apples and vegetables.

So there might have been more to the whole “letting someone new into his heart” thing than Cain’s sexy hair and great kissing skills. Cain was thoughtful, and he seemed just as interested in letting them into his life as he had been at making himself at home in theirs. Now Dean was happy to know things like Cain is a disgustingly chipper morning person, and that he enjoys tea with a bit of lemon and honey, and these days it mostly doesn’t freak Dean out to know that he has someone that he can take all his troubles to. 

He shook his head at himself, moving to put the kettle on. Maybe he just had some growing up to do. He was damn grateful whatever the cause was for his change of heart.

\---

Cain really disliked the snow. No matter what he wore, the stuff seemed to sneak in, making him cold and damp in uncomfortable places. Dean had laughed like a maniac the first blizzard of the year when Cain had managed to struggle out to the barn and back. Apparently snow liked to clump in his beard, turning him from, in Dean’s words, “a majestic lion” to the abominable snowman. Dean had called him Yetti for a few days until Sam came in from grocery shopping with hair far worse than Cain’s and the title passed to him. 

It felt surprisingly good to be included in this ridiculous teasing. 

There was so much to be included in now that Cain found himself adopted into the Winchester family. Just the thought of their recent antics related to cabin fever and the bad weather amused Cain as he shook the snow from his shoulders and stripped off his coat in the entryway of his home. 

Heat welcomed him, as did the greetings of the three young men settling in for the night. After the snow had come they had found a comfortable pattern of staying over at Cain’s, and the cabin felt more alive these days than Cain could ever remember. 

These days things are different from before, when the house was alive with other voices. 

Sam has taken Colette’s old rocking chair, and Cain was surprised to find that this sparks no resentment or pain in his heart. When his wife had first passed Cain had raged against the universe. The inevitable passage of time had brought with it the fading of everything that had been Colette in his life. Her scent had been the first to leave, and within weeks of her death their bed had smelled only like him. After that it was memories, and later friends when he pushed them away to leave him with what he could keep of his lost love. In his grief he had attempted to freeze time, to keep himself in a moment where Colette was still present. 

But all his efforts couldn’t change reality, and Colette had been gone for a long time now. Somehow, seeing Sam rocking back and forth in her chair, deeply engaged in whatever book he was reading that night, soothed something in Cain’s soul. There were ways of keeping Colette’s memory alive, some more wholesome than others. 

Dean nudged him with his elbow, eyebrows raised in amusement. Cain shook himself out of his reverie to peck a small kiss on the young man’s forehead. Dean made a face to hide his blush and handed Cain a cup of tea. This too, was Colette’s. He couldn’t remember anymore where she had gotten it, whether it had been in the family for generations or whether she had picked it up new. But he found it didn’t really matter, because he could remember her smile when she used to bring him a cup of camomile tea in the evenings. It matched Dean’s smile now as Cain took a careful sip, and even if the tea was now lemon ginger the sentiment remained. The same warmth spread through him at the sight of Sam in her old chair, and Cas filling one of her baskets with things for tomorrow’s lunch. It was like she was there, not just in memory, but in a little bit of everything they did. 


	8. Sleeping In

With the habit of a lifetime, Cain rose with the dawn. The sun’s light filtered gently into the room through cream lace curtains, casting a warm glow on its inhabitants. Cain blinked from where he lay, head resting on the same down pillows that it had slept on for the last decade, the same pink and yellow quilt that had covered the bed for hundreds of similar mornings thrown over him. But this morning was different. Instead of empty space covered by white sheets and the pink and yellow quilt, instead of an empty pillow with nothing but the morning light resting on it, instead of all this there was Dean.

Dean, who lay there, breath soft and even in sleep, his bare shoulder glowing with youth and health under the first rays of the sun. Cain could count the freckles on it, could if he so desired trace them down along the young man’s spine, down to the dusting of the lovely few that he now knew flecked Dean’s softly rounded ass.

Dean stirred slightly in his sleep, hair fluffed out in every direction as he pressed his face into the pillow that until yesterday hadn’t been used in twelve years. He looked so peaceful now, but for the last few weeks Dean had been tense, alternating between stewing inside his own head and clingy, fawning behavior as if he were afraid Cain was going to disappear.

Cain sighed, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair back on his lover’s forehead. He had been waiting for Dean to come to him about whatever was bothering him, but Dean could have such difficulty verbalizing his thoughts and feelings. Not for the first time Cain wondered if he was doing more harm than good by letting Dean work through these problems on his own.

Quietly, Cain made his way through the house, the early dawn glow enough to light his way to the kitchen. Perhaps after a proper night’s sleep and a good breakfast, Dean would feel up to revealing the source of his anxiety this week.

As Cain pulled out eggs and bread he found himself humming. Even with Dean acting antsy all this week Cain couldn’t help but think proudly of how well their little family was doing. Dean and Cas had been spending more and more time at the cabin, leaving Sam with their old apartment and a renewed trust in Sam’s ability to live independently. Sam had been pleased and Cain was sure that the vote of confidence went a long way to healing old wounds. While Sam enjoyed his newfound freedom, Castiel blossomed under Cain’s mentorship in regards to proper farm care. When not forced into contact with strangers for no purpose, Castiel was actually quite outgoing. His naturally grumpy face he presented to the world was thawing under Cain’s encouraging mentorship.

Cain could even admit that there was a change for the better in himself. When Collette had died he had believed his world died with her. He went through the motions, changing nothing for fear of erasing what little of Collette was in the world. Time had brought him out of that depression, but the years of solitude had left him with habit that kept him alone and stagnant. There was a time when he though he enjoyed the solitude, that silence was preferable to the company of strangers, conveniently ignoring the fact that everyone is a stranger at first meeting. Cain snorted, cracking eggs into the pan and putting the kettle on to boil.

In the space of two years he had gone from the hermit to local entrepreneur, with a family and all.

A shuffling sound behind him signaled that Dean was awake. Cas, for all his ninja skills during the daytime, stumbled about like an ox in a china shop anytime before his first cup of coffee.

Dean on the other hand was soft in the morning. Cain felt Dean shuffle up behind him, and before Dean could hesitate he raised his arms up, giving Dean room to slide in from behind and wrap around Cain like an affectionate limpet.

“You make’n me pancakes?” Dean asked, rubbing his nose into the back of Cain’s neck. Dean had developed a tactile obsession with Cain’s hair, which had begun to grow out quite a bit.

“Yes, silly boy. I am making pancakes. You had better put the coffee on before Cas wakes up.”

Dean’s only response was to burrow further into Cain’s collar. Chuckling, Cain twisted around to untangle himself and peck a kiss to Dean’s forehead before shooing him off.

Soon the table was set and Cas was stomping down the stairs like he was ready to kill. Breakfast was comfortable. None of them spoke much beyond their plans for the day. As soon as Cas excused himself Dean began fidgeting, watching Cain clean the table.

“Uhm,” Dean stood up abruptly, face crimson. “I, uhh. I need to ask you something,” he took the dishes from Cain and dropped them in the sink. “Sit, please,” Dean said, guiding him back into a chair. Cain sat, looking up at him expectantly. He hadn’t thought Dean would crack so soon, to be honest, and for sure not this early in the morning.

Dean stared down at him, quiet now that he had Cain where he wanted him. He opened his mouth a few times before sighing explosively and pasting a huge, forced smile on his face. Cain was beginning to feel alarmed when Dean suddenly dropped to one knee, awkwardly grabbing Cain’s hands in his own.

“Dean what-”

“Please,” Dean leaned forward in earnest, but he overbalanced, falling back onto his ass. “Damn it!” he swore, pushing himself up onto both knees in a scrabble. “Just. Let me finish before you say anything, ok? Shit. I wanted to do this right too,” he ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in all directions. “You always do right by me, even when I’m ungrateful about it. So I figured it was my turn to reach out, you know?” he stared up at Cain with pleading eyes. “You mean so much to me. I never thought any of this was possible, that I could find someone who understands, who could take us all. Especially me,” he was smiling fondly now, eyes soft. “Man, you treat me like I’m something precious. No one’s ever done that before.”

He reached into his pocket, fumbling a bit as he was kind of sitting on whatever it was. “I know I suck at these romantic things. Hell, I fucked up getting down on one knee and that’s like, basic. But,” he held up a small box, and Cain was surprised to feel his stomach flip flop in anticipation, “I figured you deserve to have someone who puts as much effort into loving you as you give to them. So, I can’t always promise to get it perfect, but I want to try. With you. For as long as we have together.”

Cain tried to steady his hands as he took the box from Dean, but the faint tremor was there when he opened the boy to find a simple silver band, on a matching short chain that he knew would hang perfectly next to Collette’s on his neck.

“What do you think? You up for a long, old-fashioned engagement until I can get settled enough to get properly hitched?”

Cain stared at him, this beautiful young man, sitting legs half crossed on his kitchen floor while he offered him another chance at forever.

“I think I like that idea very much.”

He pulled Dean up onto his knees for a kiss. “I think, that as my fiance, it would not be inappropriate for you to move in permanently if you would like. I know Cas would feel better knowing that I wouldn’t be able to kill the bees while he’s gone.”

Dean pulled away, coyly. “Really? Is that really the main reason you want us to live with you?”

Cain hummed, pretending to think on it. “Yes,” he said, grabbing Dean’s ass and groping it. “That is definitely the only reason I would ask my fiance to live with me.”

With a groan, Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s it. I take back everything I said about you being the romantic one.”

Cain pulled Dean fully up until he was sitting in his lap. “Let me make it up to you, since you went through all this trouble to propose to an old man like me.”

Dean chuckled, leaning in to kiss him again. “Well, I think I can get behind that.”

**Author's Note:**

> So that's the end....or is it? I am planning some fluffy timestamps actually, so if there is anything you guys want to have me talk about let me know!
> 
> I'm very lonely. Come say hi.  
> ambersagen.tumblr.com


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